


Moons and Junes and Ferris Wheels

by cablesscutie



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Old Friends, Rating May Change, Single Parents, Slow Burn, functional exes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25059226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cablesscutie/pseuds/cablesscutie
Summary: The frame was made of brightly painted clay, a cheesy souvenir that proclaimed "Ember Island" across the top.  Along the bottom in curling script it read, "Discover Your True Self".  Back then, she hadn’t paid much attention to remembering things - there had been an abundance of laughter and love in her life, and it had felt as though she could only get endlessly happier. "That", she thought, studying herself again, "is the Katara I miss the most."
Relationships: Izumi & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Past Mai/Zuko - Relationship, past katara/aang - Relationship
Comments: 72
Kudos: 148





	1. Discover Your True Self

Katara started packing before she knew where she was planning to go.

When they had met to discuss the terms of the divorce, Aang had gone against his lawyer’s advice and offered to be the one to move if she wanted to keep the house. Briefly, she was pleased, and almost accepted without thinking. It felt like he _should_ be the one to move. He was the one who was never there anyway. She was the one who spent nearly all her time rambling around the property, keeping up with the expansive vegetable garden and teaching the kids. Then she had thought about what that would actually look like - early mornings and late nights working in the little office at the back of the house, days still spent homeschooling, the drafty master bedroom even colder for the lack of even his belongings keeping her company, and the oppressive darkness that pressed in at night. “You can move if you want to,” she had told him, finally. “But I don’t want to stay there. It’s too quiet.” 

In the end, they had decided that he would move out temporarily - until Katara figured out where she and the kids were going to make their new home. Now, wrapping her picture frames carefully in newspaper, she still wasn’t completely sure. Maybe she would move back to her original home to be near her father and brother. The kids might like being around their cousins more. It didn’t particularly appeal to her though. She hadn’t gone back to live there after college the way Sokka had - everyone that stayed still remembered her as a girl. The thought of returning as a divorcee, three kids in tow...no, home wasn’t an option. She loved it, but the small-town gossip would be unbearable.

Kyoshi Island might be nice. It was close to home, but much friendlier to women who were single by choice. A couple girls she’d been friends with college worked out there, so she might have at least a chance of some friends. Or perhaps she could go to Ba Sing Se. Toph had decided to go big city after college, and it might be nice to reconnect. For years now they only kept in touch via the group chat that was a relic at this point. It would flare up occasionally when old inside jokes became relevant or someone found a meme that reminded them of the good old days - but she missed who she was when she hung out with Toph. Still happily single, kick-ass-and-take-names Toph had always made Katara feel bolder. She was the only person who could really convince Katara to let down her hair and make some trouble. So yes, that might be nice for Katara, but the culture shock may be too much for her kids, who were hardly used to seeing anyone but family.

She sighed and looked down at the frame in her hands. It had been on her desk, knocked flat long ago and buried under paperwork, but still whole. The frame was made of brightly painted clay, a cheesy souvenir that proclaimed _Ember Island_ across the top. Along the bottom in curling script it read, _Discover Your True Self_. In the photo, she was ten years younger and not looking forward into her older self’s eyes. Her eyes were scrunched up from laughing, head tipped back and arms holding her stomach. Beside her was another friend she’d lost touch with. Zuko’s smile was smaller, more hesitant, but just as real as her own. He was reaching towards her with a pointing finger. She couldn’t remember if it had been to poke her or accuse her, or even what had made her laugh so hard in the first place. Back then, she hadn’t paid much attention to remembering things - there had been an abundance of laughter and love in her life, and it had felt as though she could only get endlessly happier.

She remembered that summer well though. Aang had just graduated from college and she’d wrapped up her Masters’. It was the last summer before they joined most of their friends in the world of adulthood for real, and they’d wanted to make it count. For Aang, that had meant living out his longtime dream of backpacking the Air Temples solo. Her own plans hadn’t extended much past a list of novels she’d been putting off and not setting an alarm for a couple months. Until Zuko had offered up the other bedroom in his family’s summer cottage. He was telecommuting to his job at his father’s company for the season, hoping that stepping back from the city itself would help him stave off impending burnout. She’d gone for the promise of undemanding company and beautiful beaches, and found herself falling in love with the island itself. 

Cute local festivals and terrible community theater made her feel right at home, and the sound of the ocean at night and warmth of the sun all day had her relaxed. Eventually, she’d even convinced Zuko to use a few of his hoarded vacation days to show her around for real, and they’d had the time of their lives. The photo in the frame had been taken on one of those days, down on the boardwalk full of games and fried foods. It wasn’t even clear to her _what_ day - there had been so many like that during her layabout summer. _That_ , she thought, studying herself again, _is the Katara I miss the most._ So, the photo didn’t get packed away just then. It lived on her bedside table, taking the place of the wedding photo she wasn’t sure what to do with, and every night as she went to sleep, she would look at her own smiling face and long for the peace she had felt all those years ago. 

When the thought came to her weeks later, it wasn’t much of a plan. Just a soft voice telling her, _The kids would have fun there_. 

After that, things started to come together much faster. With a destination in mind, she was able to start looking for a place to live. All of the kids were excited when she showed them the pictures of the little yellow house she had found to rent. The prospect of living right on a little sandy beach and going to a _real school_ with _other kids_ got them running around excitedly, talking about how they were going to make so many new friends.

“I’m gonna learn how to surf!” Kya announced, bouncing up off the couch cushions in her excitement.

“I wanna ride a turtle seal!” Bumi told Katara. Even Tenzin, who had been so quiet ever since Aang left, got into the spirit of things.

“Can my room be a sand fort?” Katara laughed, and rubbed a hand over his fuzzy head.

“Well, you’ll still have to sleep inside, but you and Bumi will be sharing a room, so if you want, we can get bunk beds and you can make your bunk into a permanent fort.”

That appeased Tenzin, as well as Bumi who, while not thrilled about sharing a room with his baby brother, was mollified by the prospect of getting to his bed by ladder.

With the kids on board, all that was left to do was call Aang and tell him that the house would be all his as of the first of next month. That went less smoothly.

“It’s just that Ember Island is kinda far, don’t you think?” he said.

“Everywhere is far away, Aang,” she reminded him. “This place is in the middle of nowhere. It would be farther if I moved home or to Kyoshi.”

“I just don’t know why you have to take them so far.” Katara sighed.

“What does it matter if we’re near Air Temple Island? You’re never here. We already decided the only time you can take them is school breaks, so what’s the difference?” There was a long pause before he answered.

“If you guys were closer...maybe I could visit in between trips too? Sometimes? Republic City has a great school system, and -”

“No.” She felt a headache coming on.

“Can’t you just think about -”

“I _could_ , but I _won’t_ , Aang. I already ruled out big cities. The kids are used to a really small community, and I’m not going to put them through the shock of adjusting to that kind of lifestyle on top of the divorce.” She heard him take a breath on the other end of the line, but refused to let him cut her off. “And _on top of that_ , I’m not going to put them or _myself_ through you blowing in and out of my house whenever you happen to be around. If I was okay living like that, this wouldn’t be happening.”

“I would check with you before I came,” he tried. Katara rolled her eyes.

“And make me the one who kicked their dad out of the house, dragged them away from him, and now won’t let him visit? That sounds super helpful, but I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Katara -”

“Stop it.” The sharp tone of her voice worked. It was the same way she talked to the kids when they were acting up, and it always made her feel so old and terribly alone using it on him too. “We agreed months ago that what’s best for the kids is consistency. They need to know what to expect from us. And you and I can’t spend too much time with them together, or they’ll get confused.” 

Part of her spitefully thought that he wanted that - for Katara to have to field too many questions about if they were getting back together and decide that the kids would be happier if she went back to him. She knew in her heart of hearts that Aang wasn’t that conniving, that he was just sad and trying to figure out how not to let go of her all the way, but it still made her angry. This was about their marriage, yes, but their marriage was about a lot more than just the two of them. They couldn’t be selfish about it.

“You’re right,” he said, quiet. “I know you’re right. You’re always right about everything.” She winced, closing her eyes to the sight of their mostly empty bedroom around her. The compliments hurt worse than the parts where he’d been angry with her, not least because they were largely untrue. They were about a Katara he had shaped in his head over long stretches apart - a fairytale he’d told himself about the endlessly patient and wise wife he’d left behind. She was neither of those things. “It’s just…” She braced herself. “I’ll miss you.” All the fight ran out on her exhale, and she slumped tiredly against the headboard, feeling herself list sideways in the dip she’d worn into her side of the bed.

“I’ll miss you too,” she said truthfully. “But I’ve been missing you for a long time already. I’m ready to stop now. You have to let me stop, Aang.” She could hear sniffling on his end of the call, and her own eyes were hot and stinging. Nothing fell though - there had been more than enough of that in the years and months leading up to then. After a long moment where she pretended not to hear him blowing his nose and pulling himself together, he said,

“Okay, Katara.” She breathed a relieved sigh. “I’ll try to stop too.”

“Alright. Goodnight then.” 

“Goodnight.” She knew she had to be the one to actually disconnect the call, so she did.

Katara slept with her windows open that night even though it was supposed to storm. The wind that came with the black clouds brought the brine of the ocean, and the air in her bedroom turned too warm and wet. Sprawled across the middle of the quilt in underwear and an old t-shirt, she fell asleep thinking of Ember Island and the Katara she was going to find once more. She woke up smiling.


	2. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hearing from old friends dredges up a lot of memories. Zuko is, predictably, awkward about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing Zuko and Izumi together! I hope you all find these two as adorable as I do!

When the old college group chat revived with a message from Katara that read, _Aang and I are getting a divorce_ , Zuko didn’t consider that it might not be a joke. Once upon a time, they had been his best friends, but they had also been completely disgusting as a couple. They were the kind of saccharine that upset his stomach when they all hung out. It had always made him feel like a terribly selfish person that he couldn’t manage to feel happy for them. The only real consolation had been that Katara had seemed equally perturbed when he started bringing Mai around to group functions. If she was overprotective and he was uptight and Aang was sweetly unaware of these flaws, then it was okay. That was just them.

_Did he start snoring? Is this a new group meme?_ he texted back, then tucked the phone back in his pocket and went back to slicing up an apple for Izumi’s snack. He scooped the finished pile onto a plate and dropped a glob of peanut butter into the corner, licking the extra off the spoon. “Here you go, kid,” he said, sliding the plate next to her elbow where she was hunched over the coffee table with paper and crayons. Silence, as she kept scribbling away at what looked like a purple platypusbear. “You’re welcome,” he said pointedly, poking the top of her head to get her attention. Her head snapped up in surprise, big brown eyes blinking at him from behind her glasses. He nodded at the snack beside her. She looked, and then grinned at him in gleeful surprise, as though he’d conjured them from thin air.

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome,” he said wryly, and returned to the kitchen.

At seven, Izumi was a bit of a space case, tending to get tunnel visioned on one particular project and pursuing it with single-minded focus no matter what else was happening. Zuko often worried that the house could burn down around her and his daughter wouldn’t notice. Whenever he mentioned his concerns to his Uncle or his mother, they just laughed at him and promised that he was exactly the same. Once, when Uncle had tried to talk him into a blind date, the man had told him that parenting was his latest obsessive project. He hadn’t really been able to deny the accusation, but he hadn’t gone on the date either.

Back in the kitchen, Zuko pondered his own empty stomach. He’d skipped breakfast because he’d been dragged onto a conference call right after making Izumi’s breakfast, and he just hadn’t resurfaced until it was time to give her a snack. Grabbing another apple from the bowl, he started making another plate of slices and peanut butter. Plate in hand, he settled on the couch to watch a cartoon with Izumi while they munched. The show was all high-pitched voices and glaringly bright animation, and was in fact one of his least favorite parts of parenting, so when he felt his phone vibrate, he told himself it might be important and gratefully accepted the distraction. Katara had replied to his messages with a glaringly terse, _No._ When no further explanation came, his chest felt tight at the thought of upsetting her. It wasn’t until the next notifications came in that he realized how fully he’d put his foot in his mouth.

The GAang  
  
Katara  
Aang and I are getting a divorce  
  
Did he start snoring? Is this a new group meme?  
  
Katara  
No.  
  
**Aang** was removed from The GAang  


~Water Tribe~  
  
**Sokka** renamed the chat ~Water Tribe~  


Fuck. He bit his thumb nail, staring at the notifications.

“Dad?” Izumi asked, breaking his anxious spiral.

“Uh,” he blinked to clear his head. “What’s up, sweetie?” She pointed at the screen, where the next episode was loading.

“Can I have another show?” Zuko shook his head, and grabbed the remote to shut the TV off. “Not right now. We’ll watch another one after dinner, okay? Why don’t you finish this lovely picture?”

“Okay,” she sighed, and slumped down until she melted back onto her seat on the floor. He laughed and leaned over to kiss the top of her head, which made her whine and squirm away. “Can you draw the fire-breathing?” she asked, blinking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Where?” he asked, frowning. From what he could decipher, she was drawing the princess ninja character from her favorite show, and her unicorn sidekick.

“The unicorn,” she told him, in a voice that implied the _Duh. You’re so uncool, Dad._

“Riiight. Okay, I’ll help you with that in a bit. I’m gonna clean up and take another meeting real quick.” She turned back to the drawing, and he unlocked his phone again, and seeing that Katara still hadn’t said anything else, he pulled up a new text and addressed it to just Katara.

_I’m so sorry_ , he typed out and sent before he could second guess it. Barely a moment passed before her reply came through.

Katara  
  
I'm so sorry  
Don't worry. You didn't know  
  
Still, I was an idiot  
I just kind of dropped the bomb and walked away though  
  
Been there  


It was true - of anyone, Zuko felt like he had the least reason to criticize how Katara handled delivering big news. Seven years ago, he had stood over a hospital bassinet, holding his phone with shaking hands as he attached the brand new photo and typed out _Mai died. This is Izumi._ Uncle Iroh had taken the phone away after that, and he and Zuko’s mother had pressed close on either side of him, holding him up as alway. He’d never offered his friends any further explanation, and though they’d already drifted apart quite a bit, he knew it wasn’t really okay to leave them all hanging. He’d done it anyway, though. There had been an outpouring of shock and sympathy and a hundred other emotions Zuko hadn’t been able to deal with, and in the end he had muted the thread for a month.

The morning after he opened it again, there was a photo of a different tiny baby, and Katara’s caption read simply, “This is Kya.” Nobody had answered overnight, but he knew that Aang and Sokka and Suki had been with her in person, probably filling her room with balloons and stuffed animals and laughter. The thought had made his chest ache, and he’d been surprised to find that it wasn’t bitterness, but a longing to be a part of that too. So he’d sent a congratulations text and a bouquet of sunflowers and chrysanthemums, and then he’d gotten out of bed to fix Izumi a bottle.

>

Katara  
  
It’s not the same, Zuko. I had a choice.  
Still. It must suck. I’m really sorry.  
Thanks. I’m okay though.  
  


It was a dismissal, but he couldn’t stop himself from replying anyway. 

>

Katara  
  
Good.  


His mother and uncle came for dinner that night, and when Iroh was recruited to play tea party with Izumi, Ursa shoved her son towards a kitchen chair, poured them each a glass of wine, and took over the cooking.

“Mom, you don’t have to do that, I don’t mind cooking,” he insisted. She selected a knife from the block on the counter and waved it at him with unsettling nonchalance.

“I am your mother, and you will do as I say,” she said, the warm smile that spread over her lips belying her stern tone. “So park it.” He sighed, but lifted his hands in surrender and retreated to the table with his glass. Ursa pulled a bell pepper towards her and sliced into it. Zuko took a sip of wine, relaxing into the rhythm of his mother’s methodical chopping and the distant sound of Iroh and Izumi laughing. As she worked, Ursa filled him in on the mundane details of her life - the book she was reading, Ikem’s rehearsals with the youth theater group, Kiyi’s millions of interior decorating plans. It was nice, actually, to not be doing anything for the moment, though he would never admit it to his mom.

“How is Ikem?” he asked. “Is his back going to be better in time to move Kiyi into her new apartment?” He’s smiling a little as he says it, thinking of his stepfather stubbornly trying to insist that he absolutely had _not_ thrown out his back as they were unloading bags of potting soil for Ursa’s new greenhouse. Zuko had abandoned him hunched over in the driveway, still insisting to his shoes that he wasn’t nearly old enough for _that_ , and promptly told on him to Ursa. Shocking absolutely nobody, Ikem’s protests had petered out once he was deposited on the couch and his wife started doting on her poor noble husband, sacrificing himself for her garden.

“Oh he’s already insisting you and he will have that couch of hers up the stairs _no problem_ ,” she rolled her eyes, but her smile was smitten. Zuko winced.

“I hope Kiyi’s been lifting weights. You’re gonna have to run interference for us.” Ursa laughed and smiled slyly.

“I’m already practicing struggling with the boxes.” Ursa picked up the cutting board full of vegetable slices and suddenly hunched over as though they had turned to lead. “Honey, would you lend me a hand with this?” she asked Zuko with a strained smile and exaggerated puppy dog eyes. “It’s much heavier than it looks.” Zuko laughed, but played along and got up to take hold of the board too and help her pretend to heave it up over the stove. “Whew!” his mother sighed, wiping imaginary sweat from her brow.

“You’re good,” he told her, taking his seat again.

“Well, I was quite the actress back in the day,” she reminded him. “Brava,” he praised, raising his glass to her. She bobbed in a well-practiced curtsy and raised hers back, and together they sipped their wine.

The food sizzled in the pan, and Ursa poked at it with a wooden spoon, swirling her drink around her glass contemplatively. Zuko had come to learn that while his mother was often silent, it was never without purpose, and this one felt as though she was preparing her words. He wondered what his mother was building to.

“You sounded distracted on the phone earlier,” she said, and Zuko was taken aback. Whatever she wanted to discuss, he hadn’t expected it to be his behavior. He tried to remember what he had said on the phone with her when they were confirming dinner, and found that he really hadn’t said much of anything.

“Um, maybe a little?” She nodded to herself, still looking at the food. His mother had never needed to see his face to read his mind.

“Yes. And you were being very quiet just now. Are you worried about something?” That was usually a good bet with him - he was nearly constantly anxious about one thing or another, but a quick mental inventory revealed nothing pressing.

“Not really,” he said truthfully. His mother hummed.

“Something on your mind, then?” As so often happened with his feelings, it hadn’t occurred to him until she asked. All day, his mind had kept returning to his conversation with Katara, thoughts tripping over their short messages and the idea that Aang had been summarily kicked out of the group chat and symbolically their friend group.

“I heard from my college friends today,” he told her, almost without thinking. Ursa turned from the stove to raise an eyebrow at him.

“You don’t sound happy about it,” she noted. Ursa hadn’t met all of “the GAang” as they had once called themselves. He hadn’t reconnected with her until just after he graduated, so the only one she ended up meeting was Katara, when she spent a summer with him here in this very house, back when it was the rundown remnants of their family’s old vacation cottage. Uncle Iroh had been the one to host them for spring breaks on Ember Island and study sessions at his first tea shop.

“Katara and Aang are splitting up,” he said, frowning into the bottom of his glass. His mother’s mouth twisted in sympathy, but her eyes were strangely unreadable.

“Do they have kids?” she asked. Zuko nodded.

“Three.” Ursa hummed sadly.

“That’s hard. Do you know if she’s alright?” He nodded again.

“I talked to her a little after she texted the group chat. I kinda thought she was joking and put my foot in my mouth.” He winced.

“Oh, honey,” his mother sighed.

“Yeah. But, uh, she said she was okay. I don’t know any details, but apparently it was her decision.”

“Are you alright? I know you were very close to them. Especially Katara.” He didn’t know what to make of the undertone in his mother’s voice, but his chest felt a little tight at the reminder of what he’d once had with those friends, and - his mother was right - especially Katara.

“I guess it feels kind of weird to find out in a group text,” he admitted. “We were all really close, but she was my best friend.” A memory hits him, and he laughs a little sadly. “You know, she almost made me be her maid of honor?”

“No, I don’t think you mentioned.”

“Yeah, she threatened to make me wear the dress and everything.” Ursa smiled at him, but it was oddly sad.

“What happened?” Zuko frowned a little. He actually wasn’t sure how he ended up being one of the groomsmen instead.

“I don’t really know. I told her halter tops make my shoulders look weird, and then she ended up asking Suki.”

“I meant what happened with your friendship?” He sighed, and shrugged.

“Nothing, really. We didn’t have a falling out. She went back to school in Ba Sing Se, I moved back to Caldera to clean up Dad’s mess, and the next thing you know, we were both married, and it had been months since we spoke outside the group chat.”

“Well, maybe you two can start talking again. She could probably use a friend right now.” He hummed noncommittally, thinking once more of the shortness of Katara’s messages. If she needed a friend, she hadn’t seemed particularly interested in that friend being him. His mother walked over to him and brushed her fingers through his hair like when he was little, and he was surprised to find it still had the same magical comforting effect it used to. “You know what your uncle always says about destiny.” She bent and kissed the crown of his head before releasing him to return to her cooking.


	3. Reunion Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids have their first day of school. Katara is trying to be okay with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me until the end of Zutara Week to complete, but it is my piece for Day 1: Reunion!

Katara had a panic attack while preparing the kids' first lunch boxes the night before school started, and ended up sitting with her back against the fridge with her brother and sister-in-law talking her down.

“I promise, it’s much scarier for you than it is for them,” Suki reassured her.

“Yeah,” Sokka agreed. “Even if they cry, five minutes after you leave it’ll be like you never existed.” There was a muffled thump from over the phone line, and Sokka yelped “Ow! What was that for?”

“You’re not helping, babe.”

“I’m just saying, our kids didn’t want to leave when I went to pick them up the first year.” Katara wasn’t sure the idea of her kids forgetting her was helpful, but listening to Sokka and Suki’s bickering turn into a scuffle calmed her down.

It sounded just like home always had when she was a kid. Their family wasn’t very large, but everyone used to be arguing all the time - Dad and Gran-Gran about if he’d been sassing her, Katara and Sokka over rules of made-up games, Gran-Gran and Grand-Pakku over decades-old squabbles, Dad and Sokka over leftovers, and sometimes all of them fighting over whose turn it was to wash dishes. That was one of the many things she loved about their friend group in college. The dorms had felt so quiet until she’d started hanging out with Sokka and his roommate, Zuko. Sokka used to start dumb debates with him all the time, and Katara had wasted hours and hours of her freshman year stealing Zuko’s Fire Flakes and egging on heated arguments about if vegetable soup is also a salad. The addition of Toph and Aang the following year had only poured more fuel on the fire, and their apartments always seemed to be filled with the sound of overlapping voices negotiating takeout and movie choices.

The noise had been the biggest thing she missed when they all fell out of touch and she and Aang moved to the rural Air Temple Island. It was a lack she had been hoping would dissipate when the little house started to fill up with kids, but to no avail. Aang had always enjoyed laughing at the silly little arguments, but never really had the temperament for engaging in it himself. Whenever Katara felt the need to get into it with someone, he just looked hurt and confused, so she had started just biting back the small frustrations to spare him the sting of her quick temper. Bumi and Kya had fought like her and Sokka - loudly and constantly - but as an only child, it made Aang nervous to hear them go at it and they had started to intervene instead of letting the conflict run its course. And so, Katara’s home had become relatively quiet and orderly once more, the silence of her empty bedroom compounded by the silence that surrounded it.

“ _Sokka_ , just stop!” Suki’s voice returned. “Give me the phone.” Her commanding tone jolted Katara out of the spiral of memories, and she was breathing easier and sitting straight when Suki said, “They’ll be okay, Katara. Even if it doesn’t take the first day, once they make friends, they’ll get there. You said they’re excited, right?” Katara breathed in and out deeply one more time.

“Yeah.”

“That’s half the battle won then. They’re good kids, and they’re _smart_ -”

“But they’re _new_ and…” Katara lowered her voice just in case one of the kids was awake and eavesdropping, “a little weird, Suki. I mean, they’ve hardly even met anyone that’s not related to them. What if the other kids are mean?”

“Hey, if the little freaks Sokka and I raised can hack it, yours will be fine,” Suki joked, and Katara cracked a bit of a smile. “It’s everybody’s first day back. Between all the classes getting shuffled and people moving over the summer, they definitely won’t be the only kids that are new.” Katara nodded, and then because she realized Suki couldn’t see her, said,

“You’re right.”

“I know I am. Now finish making those lunches and get your ass to bed.” There was a shuffling as the phone got put back on speaker, and then Sokka was back, teasing her that “Yeah, if you have to take them to school all cranky _nobody’s_ gonna have a good day.” That made her laugh, and finally gave her the courage to thank them, hang up, and finish filling containers of carrot sticks.

Drop-off the next morning was nowhere near the nightmare she’d worked herself up to expect. Tenzin cried for a few minutes when he had to accept that his siblings really weren’t going to be coming to daycare with him anymore, but the teacher running the preschool program was the same woman who had supervised the under five summer session, so his distress was short-lived. She prepared herself for having to peel the others two off her legs as she parked in front of the low tan-bricked building of the elementary school, but when she walked Bumi to his class first, he strode in with barely a backwards glance, leaving her to greet his teacher alone while he ran off towards the cluster of boys by the windows. Kya was a little clingier, but only because she wanted to drag her mother around on a tour of the class and make her tell the teacher all about what a good reader she was already. In the end, Katara had to be saved from being late to work by the teacher, who cut off Kya’s rant with practiced ease and informed her that “it looks like that girl over on the rug likes to read too!” pointing out a tiny girl with giant glasses and her face buried in a chapter book. “Maybe you should go introduce yourself,” she suggested, and Kya had abandoned her sentence entirely and said, “Bye Mom!” plopping down right across from the girl.

After that, it was hard to focus at work, especially since the urgent care clinic was slow with all of the kids back in school. Patients had slowed to a trickle, and even the slight excitement afforded by occasionally having to remove fish hooks from fingers or explain how to treat sun sickness was fading away with summer. Soon, it would be all flu shots and strep tests, but for now, it was just boring. Between visitors, she obsessively checked her phone for calls from the school, just waiting for someone to say one of the kids was losing it and needed her to come back. It was always silent though, and she would end up playing some of the waiting room board games at the reception desk with Haru.

As the hours ticked down until it was time to pick the kids up from school, she started to feel her stomach creep up her throat. Even though she’d taken a few hours of personal time to get them right at the bell, the silence of the phone did nothing to convince her that things were going smoothly. Visions of lunchtimes spent missing each other and their mother, or all of them climbing into the car in frustrated tears kept invading her head. It nagged at her so bad that she almost texted Aang just to make sure the school hadn’t messed up and called him instead. Luckily, she’d also stream-of-conciousness texted Suki about it, and her lovely, life-saving sister-in-law had replied, 

Suki  
  
friends don't let friends text their ex. THE KIDS ARE FINE.  


She’d still run out of the building like it was on fire when it was time to go get them.

The littler kids got walked out a few minutes before the bigger ones, and Katara waited on the blacktop right up close to the doors so that she would see Kya the second she got outside. As it would turn out, there was no chance of missing her. She started sprinting as soon as she hit the pavement, seeing her mother right up close, hollering,

“Mom!” Katara waved, only just stopping herself from running towards her daughter as well. “Mom Mom Mom Mom Mom!” Kya pulled up short right in front of her, and Katara noticed for the first time that she was dragging the girl from that morning right behind her. The girl had straight, black hair and light brown eyes that looked almost comically large in the purple frames of her glasses. She was dwarfed by Kya - both because she was a pretty tiny kid and because Kya had what Gran-Gran called “an extra foot of personality”. The other girl smiled up at her shyly. Katara waved, and crouched down to be the same height as the kids.

“Hi, I’m Kya’s mother, Katara,” she introduced herself.

“This is Izumi!” Kya told her, and somewhere in the back of her mind, the words rang familiar. But Katara was more concerned in the moment with scolding her daughter for not allowing her friend to speak for herself.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Katara said and then told her daughter a little wryly, “I guess it’s safe to say the first day of school was a success.” Kya nodded exaggeratedly.

Just then, Bumi wandered over, accompanied by a couple of other boys. He lifted his chin to Katara and said, “Hey Mom, what’s up?” Katara raised her eyebrow at her son.

“ _What’s up_?”

“Just chillin’,” he said, knocking fists with the boys as they peeled off to find their own parents. She nearly rolled her eyes as she thought _He’s basically Sokka’s clone_.

“Well, it looks like I had absolutely nothing to be worried about,” Katara said, getting to her feet again. She brushed off the knees of her scrubs and was immediately accosted by Kya grabbing her hand and hanging on her.

“Can Izumi come over and play?” Both girls looked to her with pleading expressions. _Yeah, Suki and Sokka were definitely right._ Katara smiled at them in amusement.

“Well, I’d have to meet her parents -”

“My dad’s here!” Izumi blurted out, pointing towards the fence, but before Katara could follow her finger, Kya had grabbed her friend and the girls were sprinting across the playground, Bumi hot on their heels with a whoop of glee.

Katara had to run after them full tilt just to keep from losing them in the crowd and making sure they didn’t run into anyone. Her sneakers pelted the pavement. It was all she could do to keep track of their little heads in the sea of children, so it wasn’t until the people thinned out enough to see them clearly that she looked up at who they were running towards, and saw

“Zuko!” The joyful shout ripped free of her without permission. It was impossible to believe, but just as impossible to deny, the red flash of his scar unmistakable even at a sprint and with a decade between them. There was no time to parse her feelings about it, her feet already carrying her inexorably closer to him. His head snapped up at the sound of his name, face the picture of shock for only a split second before a smile emerged, mirroring the one she could feel on her own lips. The naked happiness in his face was all she needed to not even consider stopping a sane distance away. Instead, she kept running until he saw that she wasn’t slowing down and opened his arms to her inevitable embrace.

It was a scene straight out of every first day of the semester they had together: Katara a blur of hair streaking towards him, Zuko trying to absorb the force of her affection and getting bowled over onto the nearest patch of grass. Their kids jumped out of the way as they crashed into each other, spilling onto the wood chips in a tangle of limbs. The wind got knocked out of her, and she _felt_ it get knocked out of him, not helped by the hysterical laughter that bubbled up. They lay gasping on the ground, unable to answer their children’s clamoring to know why Katara had full-body tackled Izumi’s dad and what was so funny about it.

When they were able to breathe again, Katara sat up off of Zuko’s chest and helped pull him upright. Three pairs of bugged-out eyes greeted them, demanding answers. Katara reached to brush wood chips off of Zuko’s back, holding him steady by the arm.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” he insisted, but didn’t swat her away, letting her fuss until she was satisfied with his appearance. Only then did Katara smooth her hair and turn to her children.

“Zuko here used to live with your Uncle Sokka way back in college,” she explained. Bumi, who thought his uncle was the coolest person ever, said,

“No _way_ ,” in an awed whisper.

Zuko laughed. The sound warmed Katara down to her toes just as it always had, and all at once, she felt a stab of longing held back for so many years without him at her side. “He was also my best friend in the whole wide world,” she told the kids, and while Bumi looked unmoved by the revelation, Kya screeched and grabbed Izumi by the shoulders.

“That’s it! We’re totally meant to best friends forever,” she enthused, and Zuko’s happiness took on a wary tinge as he looked to see how his daughter was handling the excitement. He needn’t have worried though, because Izumi grabbed Kya right back and joined in the squealing and jumping. Some things, Katara thought, were just impossible to understand if one had never been an eight year old girl before, and she squeezed Zuko’s arm reassuringly before untangling from him completely and getting to her feet. When she offered a hand to him, he accepted and let her haul him to his feet, his smile once again uncomplicated and innocent.


	4. Reunion Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko starts to gain some perspective on his past.

By the time Zuko realized that he was not, in fact, dreaming, he was already sitting on Katara’s squishy couch, being passed a mug of tea. He thought he should probably be concerned about that, given that he drove himself there, but everything besides the stunned joy he felt then was too distant. Izumi had told him that he’s the best dad ever at least three times over the course of a ten minute car ride back to the little house Katara was renting by the cliffs, and that on its own was wonderful. But Izumi had made a _friend_ , and that was on par with Zuko’s own best friend showing up in his new hometown - which was to say, nothing short of miraculous.

Zuko’s daughter is his favorite person in the world, but he was honest enough with himself now to admit that she definitely inherited his social skills. Given who her mother was, she perhaps got the luckier of the available options, but still the point stood that he’d been more than a little afraid that her best friends in the world were Uncle Iroh, her Nana Ursa, and himself - a situation that until today Izumi seemed disinclined to change. Zuko had been much the same until Sokka, and later Katara, forced their way into his life. It’s fitting, he thought, watching Kya drag Izumi by the wrist to her room, that Izumi’s life was being changed in much the same way.

“Thanks,” Zuko said, as he took the mug from Katara. She’d changed out of her work clothes now, and was in jeans and an Ember Island sweatshirt. This version of Katara was familiar to him, and he started to settle down at the sight of it. Sure, it had been ten years since they’d really seen each other, and there were a dead wife, an ex-husband, and four kids stacked up in the intervening years, but the part of him that was still the same young Zuko came alive at the sight of her. It was a happy, uncomplicated part of him that he thought long gone, but here it was, warm and expanding in his chest like he always used to feel right before she made him laugh.

As she curled up in the armchair next to the couch and lifted her own mug to her lips, he saw that the sweatshirt’s cuffs were starting to fray. It must be, he realized, from the summer they’d spent here together, marking time in his grandparents’ run-down vacation cabin and exploring the town. “Weird how we both ended up back here, huh?” she asked, reading his mind as she always had. Zuko smiled at her.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, and then frowned a little as a thought occurred to him. “How come you didn’t mention you were moving here?”

“You never said anything about moving either,” she pointed out. “For all I knew, you were still in Caldera City.” Zuko winced.

“Sorry, I guess I forgot to mention it. It was...kind of a spur of the moment decision.” It was true; he barely remembers that time in his life. Mai had just died, and with the grief so fresh and Izumi so small and helpless, he’d moved through those first few months in a blur. It wasn’t until his mother idly mentioned that she was thinking of finally selling the beach house because it hadn’t been used in years that Zuko had found himself blurting out that he would fix it. He and Izumi had promptly moved into Uncle Iroh’s apartment above his tea shop right in the little downtown, and Zuko had spent his days clearing out dusty old furniture, repairing drafty windows, and giving everything a fresh coat of paint.

“ _You_ fixed up that mess?” Katara asked when he told her this, sounding shocked but maybe a bit impressed too. He flushed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I, uh, managed to figure things out well enough between Ikem and the internet, but it definitely wasn’t perfect. I’ve ended up hiring people to re-do some of it over the years, but I didn’t really have the money back then.” Katara didn’t ask him what he meant by that, because she was never one to pry with him, but he explained anyway. “When I decided to move, I kinda quit the job at Dad’s company.” Her smile was bright and proud as she said,

“Zuko, that’s great. I mean, it must’ve been hard, but I remember how miserable you were there. It’s good you let yourself leave that behind.” Even though he finally knew that he didn’t need anyone’s approval, it was nice to have hers.

“Obviously I don’t know the details of how things with Aang went down,” Zuko said, glancing to make sure no kids were in earshot. Katara’s shoulders pulled tight. “And I don’t need to, but whatever it is, I think it’s good you let yourself leave _that_ behind.” She relaxed, and the smile she gave him was grateful and amused.

“Since when did you get so good at comforting people?” Katara asked, and he shrugged.

“About eight years ago, I guess. Before Izumi, I was just as hopeless as you remember.”

“I don’t think you were ever as hopeless as you think.” He wondered if she meant that broadly or specific to providing comfort. Knowing Katara, it was probably left open to interpretation on purpose.

“I’m glad at least somebody thinks so,” he said with a rueful smile. Just then, Kya and Izumi sprinted in from the hallway, a blur of hair and light-up sneakers. As they raced through, Izumi’s exuberant voice shouted “Hi Dad! Bye Dad!” and then the girls tumbled out the door to the little yard.

“Bye girls!” Katara called after them, and then turned a knowing smile on Zuko. “I’m not the only one who thinks you’re better at this than you realize.” His throat goes a little tight, and he has to take a sip of tea. Fatherhood has made him even more of an easy crier than he used to be, and while it definitely wouldn’t be the first time he’d cried all over Katara, the last time had probably been while drunk at a graduation party. Except, no.

He remembered so suddenly it made him recoil a little. A frantic phone call in the night, Izumi wailing in one ear, Katara’s voice low and soothing in the other. With the stress and the late hour, it had felt like a hallucination. He had never really let himself think it was real except when dangling over the edge of sleep by his fingertips.

* * *

He had sometimes found himself sitting up at night with baby Izumi, feeding or soothing her and thinking about Katara likely doing the same thing somewhere with her own little girl. The two babies had become linked in his mind somehow, likely because sending Katara flowers had been the first social behavior he had successfully excecuted in a month. Many times he even found himself staring at her contact photo in his phone, thinking of calling her to ask for advice or just to talk, studying her face and wondering if she looked older now. He knew he did. Instead of calling, he would put away his nagging curiosity and end up clicking away to call his mother.

Except one night, the first time Izumi got sick, he woke to her crying and when he picked up her tiny body, she was burning hot and shrieking. And babies cry over everything, but he just knew that this crying was his baby afraid and in pain. She kept grabbing at him, and then trying to squirm away. He tried rocking, walking, singing, anything that would usually calm her, but if she could feel anything beyond her own overwhelming discomfort, he was certain she felt him panicking. Putting Izumi down made him feel like a terrible father, but she was squirming so much he was terrified that he might drop her if he tried to hold her with one hand, and he needed to call for help. Part of his brain understood that now was a time to call his mother and beg her to come over, but another part that was flying on adrenaline pulled up Katara’s contact and hit the call button before he could second guess.

Almost immediately, he realized he should hang up, but on the second ring, the call connected, and there was Katara’s voice, anxiously calling out, “Zuko?” And when he couldn’t manage to do anything except keep breathing raggedly into the phone, “Zuko, what’s wrong? What’s happening?” The thought struck him that given how his life had been going this year, she probably thought he was calling to say the baby was dead too - they hadn’t spoken just the two of them in ages. The words fell out of him in a tumble, but she managed to decipher enough to realize Izumi was sick and he was freaking out.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he admitted, his voice cracking. A couple tears slipped out when he closed his eyes at the sound of her shushing him the same soft way he’d been trying to calm Izumi earlier.

“It sounds like a cold. She’ll have a hundred of them before she’s grown, okay? Just listen to me, and it’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, Katara,” he croaked.

Over speakerphone she walked him through checking Izumi’s temperature, and changing her sweaty pajamas, and finding a lighter blanket. She even explained how to get the snot out of her little baby nose with the weird turkey baster thing his mom had given them at the baby shower. While he worked, she sang lullabies, the words and stories unfamiliar, but the high whisper-soft sound of her voice soothing him and Izumi and, he suspected, her own baby. When Izumi was sleeping again and a little cooler, Katara assured him once more that she would be fine. He thanked her again, embarrassed, and she laughed.

“Zuko, don’t worry. I nearly rushed Bumi to the emergency room the first time he got sick. All things considered, I think you were pretty level-headed about it.” He didn’t know if she meant to refer to Mai or not, but he still felt a hollow pain in his chest at the thought that he shouldn't be doing this alone.

“Still, I’m sorry for keeping you up.” Then, unsure of why he felt compelled to broach the topic, he said, “Aang’s probably missing you.” 

“No, he isn’t,” Katara said. “I should go though.”

“Yeah.”

“And you should sleep while you can. It’s gonna be a rough couple of days for you two.”

“I will. You get some sleep too.” She was quiet for a moment on the other end of the line.

“Call me again, okay?” It was his turn to be quiet.

“Goodnight, Katara. And Kya.” Her laugh sounded a little wet this time, but she echoed,

“Goodnight, Zuko. And Izumi.” They both stayed on for another moment, breathing together in the night while their children slept. The old clock in the living room chimed, and Zuko counted to ten, then made himself hang up.

* * *

In the end, he hadn’t called her again. He had wanted it too badly, and couldn’t put that on her. She had a husband and children to look out for, and he needed to learn how to take care of Izumi on his own if they were ever going to make it. Zuko had told himself that he needed to let go of what they’d had in college. Katara didn’t steal his coffee in the dining hall or hold his hair while he puked outside of gross house parties anymore, and they didn’t fall asleep on each other at the library or spend summers with each other's families. It had been time to be an adult, and sometimes growing up meant growing apart.

Looking at Katara now though, Zuko couldn’t help but wonder if what his memory told him was exhaustion in her voice had actually been sadness. Suddenly, he was leaning towards her, reaching out to span the small gap between them. He took her free hand in his, and her fingers folded easily around his, the way they always had during late night confessions and in crowded clubs.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he said, and she blinked at him in surprise before squeezing his hand and smiling sadly back.

“It’s okay, Zuko. I didn’t call either.”

“I wanted to,” he insisted.

“So did I,” she said. Her thumb rubbed gently over his. He opened his mouth to say something else, but the kids stampeded back indoors and Katara sat back, withdrawing her hand.

Clamoring for dinner led to Katara ordering takeout, which meant her and Zuko had to manage four little mouths jammed full of bao and sixteen wiggly limbs knocking over sauces and smacking into each other. It was the most chaotic meal Zuko could remember having. There was almost no time to get a word in to Katara before one of the kids was dropping filling down their shirt (Tenzin and Kya), or smearing grease on their glasses (Izumi - three times), or picking their nose and then reaching for the shared plates (Tenzin and Bumi - possibly not on accident). It was also the most fun he’d had at a meal since late night dim-sum runs with his friends, when Katara would scold Toph and Sokka for their abysmal table manners, and Aang would make increasingly pained food puns, and Zuko would sit back just like this and laugh and be quietly, infinitely grateful for having them all.

Bedtime eventually came for them all, tempers flaring and little hands rubbing their eyes. Saying goodbye at the door, Kya and Izumi almost had to be forcibly ripped apart, and Zuko understood as soon as Katara folded him into another hug. She was soft and warm, and smelled of dish soap, her hands still cool from the water in the sink. He held on too long, he knew, but Katara kept her arms wrapped around him until he let go.

“I’ll call this time,” he promised. Her answering smile looked like she didn’t believe it.

But that night, he put Izumi to bed, then wandered out onto the front porch, looking down to the waves lapping at the sand. Zuko pulled out his phone, and his finger hesitated over her name, that same picture from a lifetime ago, but he hit the call button anyway.

“Zuko?” she asked when she answered, a hesitant echo of the past. Eyes closed, phone pressed against his ear, he smiled.

“Hey, Katara.”


	5. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara and the kids have found themselves a new rhythm.

It had been three months since the kids had last seen their father, the day Katara insisted he come take her keys and see the kids off at the airport. Since then, he’d called every other week, and mailed them each a present from a recent trip to Omashu - sweets and toy instruments that he had picked up after meeting a band of singing nomads on the road. They’d played them simultaneously and terribly until Katara had a splitting headache, but she hadn’t told them to be quiet. They were so happy to have been thought of, and Aang’s presence in their lives had always been sporadic at best. It seemed like she should let them enjoy the attention when it came. It wasn’t their place to know how when she would speak of her loneliness, the solution was never Aang being by her side, just leaving her with another person to pour more of her vanishing self into. It was a feeling she hoped none of them would ever come to know. Besides, for all of herself that she gave to them, with her marriage no longer draining her spirit, her children filled her back up to near overflowing. 

She had been right about Ember Island being good for them. Now, the kids went to school and daycare with other children their age, and came home with stories to tell her. In the evenings, the four of them walked the beach at sunset, splashing together in the waves, collecting seashells. It was so different from the ice of her childhood, but also from the rocky cliffs of Air Temple Island where they lived so high above the sea. At last, her children felt their days revolve around the tides, Tui and La no longer bedtime stories, but governing forces of their lives. The tides told when sandbars and spits of rock would be safe to play on and when it was time to swim back to shore. Katara taught them to read the currents in the waves and stay away from the riptide, how to steer their kayaks away from hidden rocks. When Hakoda told Bumi it sounded like great practice for ice dodging, she found herself biting her cheek to keep back sudden tears of joy. 

Then there was Zuko and Izumi: still new, but feeling so much like family already. Of course, Katara wanted to see her old friend, but their daughters were even more fanatical in their desire to spend every moment together, and so in the month since school started, they had spent every Saturday (and a few afternoons too) supervising playdates. Every time they saw each other, Katara was sure she had misremembered the relief of seeing his face, but each time it almost overwhelmed her as completely as the first. It made her realize just how lonely she had been for years, so far from her friends and family, Aang always passing through the house like it was a terminal, just a place to wait for the next adventure to begin. So much time had elapsed since she and Zuko had last been a part of each other’s daily lives, but they still seemed to know each other in a shorthand that didn’t exist elsewhere.

The kids, all four of them, were so good for each other too. Besides the girls being enamored with each other, Izumi’s quiet nature drew Tenzin to her as well. 

“It’s a relief, really,” Katara told Zuko one day, walking along the beach. They were following the kids at a leisurely pace while Kya and Bumi zigged and zagged across the sand, throwing clumps of seaweed at each other. Izumi held Tenzin’s small hand in hers, and the pair kept crouching down to inspect interesting shells and stones washed up in the sand. In her other hand, Izumi carried her purple bucket, and occasionally Tenzin would pick up one of their finds and deposit it in the bucket with grave seriousness. “I mean Bumi made friends with his whole class by the end of the first week, and Kya’s talked about a couple other kids that play with her and Izumi at recess sometimes, but Tenzin just isn’t taking to other kids very well. Izumi’s probably the only one besides his siblings that he actually likes.” Zuko shrugged, hands in his front pockets, and it was a gesture so familiar that she couldn’t stop herself from looping one of her arms around his and tugging him closer to her side.

“They’re a lot alike. I mean, I was so relieved you were down to let the kids have a playdate on the spot that first day because she’s never really expressed interest in the kids in her classes. She hangs out with me and Uncle and my Mom. The closest she’s had to a friend her age is Kiyi, and she’s in college now.”

“Holy shit, Kiyi’s in _college_?” Katara asked, floored. She understood that she had a ten year old, that time had passed for her, but somehow the notion of Zuko’s little stepsister being the same age Katara herself was when she met Zuko...it made her feel ancient. “That can’t be real.”

“Tell me about it,” Zuko said. “She’s got her own apartment and everything.”

“Stop, don’t tell me any more. I can feel myself going gray just thinking about that.” Zuko turned to look at her askance.

“You shut your mouth; I’m older than you.”

“Doesn’t change the facts,” Katara said, and with her free hand, reached up to pull her hair up to reveal where she knew a scattering of silver was shot through the dark brown. Their feet stalled as Zuko leaned even closer to inspect her hair. She felt her face flush a little at the feeling of his fingertips brushing her temple as he searched, strange to have a man close to her after being distant from Aang for so long. But he was not, she told herself, just any man. This was Zuko, her best friend from another lifetime, easily falling back into the role. They had been this close - closer even - a thousand times. It shouldn’t make her nervous.

“It’s not so bad,” he said. A couple more times, his fingers stroked her hair, and then he suddenly seemed to realize what he was doing and snapped his hand back to his side. Clearing his throat, Zuko nodded towards the kids and said, “We should probably catch up.”

A good bit up the beach, all four kids had clustered together and seemed to be looking intently at something on the ground. As the adults approached, a chorus of shrieks erupted and all four kids jumped back from the thing, only to immediately creep closer again, except for Tenzin who took another step back.

“You guys okay?” Zuko called up ahead. Tenzin looked back, giving his mother wide eyes. He’d yet to actually speak to Zuko directly, shy around new adults, but he seemed to be willing Katara to telepathically understand what was going on. “Zumi?” Zuko tried to get his daughter to respond. Katara picked up her pace to a jog, knowing full well that with all the common sense her two eldest possessed between them, they might be poking at a jellyfish. 

Zuko followed suit, looking worried, but when they got to the kids, they found the three older kids staring at a crab. Katara relaxed, focusing on patting Tenzin’s head when he immediately clung to her leg, but Zuko looked more concerned, reaching forward to pull Izumi back further and nudge Bumi and Kya away from the crab.

“Don’t mess with it,” he told them. “They’re not super big, but if it pinches a toe it can definitely break it.” All three kids sprang back with a yelp, and Katara scooped up Tenzin and placed herself in grabbing distance of the others. The kids all yelled in alarm and covered their eyes as Zuko bent down and picked up the crab in his hand.

“Did it rip his finger off?” Kya asked Bumi, her eyes covered with her hands. Bumi, who had also covered his eyes, said,

“He’s Izumi’s dad, _she_ should have to look!”

“I don’t wanna look!” Izumi protested.

“Guys, it’s fine!” Zuko said, laughing at them.

“Bumi, you look first,” Kya said, flapping her arms to whack him with her elbow.

“Why do I always gotta look?”

“You’re the oldest!”

Katara laughed, watching Zuko follow the argument, a smile spreading on his face. Grumbling, Bumi parted his fingers just a bit. Zuko showed him the crab in his very un-mutilated hand, and he removed his hands from his face entirely.

“He’s fine,” Bumi declared with authority. “You guys are such babies.” Kya socked him in the arm, and Zuko almost looked proud when Izumi glanced her knuckles off his other arm. The girls stayed leery of the crab twitching its legs in Zuko’s hold, but Bumi crept closer until he was staring raptly. “How’d you do that?” 

“My Uncle showed me and my cousin how to catch them when I was little.” Zuko explained how to grab them from their blind spot and how to hold them so the pincers can’t get at your fingers, Bumi hanging on his every word. Katara smiled watching them. He got that same look whenever his Uncle Sokka or grandfather showed him new things, but he hadn’t gotten to see them since last winter solstice. “They’re pretty tasty too,” Zuko said. Katara thought her son was going to explode with excitement.

“There’s _meat_ in those?” he asked, eyes gone wide. Zuko laughed so hard he was doubled over, almost losing his grip on the crab.

“Yes, there’s meat inside,” Katara said, shaking her head in amusement. It really did surprise her sometimes just how much he reminded her of her brother. Their uncanny similarities alternately made her want to tear her own hair out and smother him in hugs.

“Can you teach me how to hunt them?” Bumi asked, grabbing onto Zuko’s arm as he regained his composure. Glancing between Bumi’s wide pleading eyes and Katara, he looked uncertain. Katara gave an encouraging smile. He didn’t _have_ to, but she certainly wasn’t opposed to taking a detour. Warmth bled into Zuko’s expression and he nodded.

“Sure, I can show you.” He turned to Izumi and Kya. “Any other takers?” The girls were already pawing through the bucket of seashells and shook their heads.

“We’ve gotta build a castle and decorate it with all these shells,” Kya said.

“Is that what Izumi wants to do with the shells?” Katara prompted, raising an eyebrow. Her daughter was quite familiarly headstrong, she found herself worrying that Izumi didn’t get much of a voice in their friendship, but the other girl nodded.

“I found these ones for doors,” she said, holding up a shiny blue mussel shell.

“Are you okay taking him if I stay with the girls?” Katara asked Zuko, also thinking _Are you okay leaving Izumi with me?_ They’d spent a lot of time together, the six of them, but this was the first time they would be in charge of each other’s kids, and she still found herself experiencing a flutter of nerves at turning Bumi loose on a new adult. 

“Yeah, I’m good. You’ve got Izumi?”

“Oh yeah. I think I’m getting a much easier deal in this trade.”

“Alright, let’s hit it then. Get your bucket.” From the beach bag, Katara fished out Bumi’s green bucket and handed it to him.

“Thanks, Mom!” Then they were off to the rocks, Zuko waving at her over his shoulder.

Tenzin squirmed to be put down, and she knelt down in the damp sand with him and the girls to start constructing their mermaid palace. Izumi had drawn out a blueprint in the sand with a stick and was methodically sorting the shells into piles of doors, windows, and miscellaneous decor while Kya doled out assignments. Tenzin got put on construction with Kya, patting clumps of sand into turrets and halls, while Katara was instructed to dig a moat around the site and keep the sand coming. 

As they worked, Katara found herself glancing over to where Zuko and Bumi were silhouetted against the slowly setting sun, climbing over rocks. Zuko hauled himself up onto a boulder and reached down for Bumi, who took his hand easily to get pulled up. Pointing down into what must’ve been a tide pool, they crouched down to inspect something, and Katara could picture the serious furrow of Zuko’s brow as he walked Bumi through the process. Suddenly, Bumi lunged, and dual whoops of triumph rang out. Katara laughed, watching them celebrate before moving on to the next pool.

“Mom!” Kya scolded, realizing she’d stopped digging the moat.

“More sand, coming right up,” Katara said, dutifully moving to the next section. Still, her eyes were drawn back to the scene. From a distance, they looked like father and son. It was the kind of moment she’d used to hope Bumi would get with Aang. Deep in her chest, something that felt like guilt stirred, but was quickly edged out by happiness when a splash and a Zuko’s alarmed shout was followed by Bumi’s uproarious laughter. She looked to Tenzin helping Izumi gently press shells into the soft sand piles, and Kya attempting to fashion reeds and seaweed into a flag, and thought to herself that they were doing alright, her kids.

When the boys came back, Zuko had Bumi squirming and giggling where he was being carried under Zuko’s arm. In his other hand was the plastic bucket. Both of them were drenched and flecked with sand.

“What happened to the two of you?” Katara asked, suppressing laughter. Zuko sighed and cast a dramatically exasperated look at Bumi.

“You’re raising a little prankster is what happened.”

“But we caught dinner!” Bumi announced, finally wiggling free of Zuko’s hold. 

“Well then, I hope Izumi and her dad don’t have dinner plans. In the water tribes, it’s customary that when you go on a hunt with someone, your families share the catch.”

“You mean Izumi gets to come over?” Kya squealed, grabbing at Katara’s hand.

“ _If_ it’s okay with her and her dad.”

“It’s okay!” Izumi blurted, suddenly latching herself onto Katara with her friend. It was only then that she seemed to realize that her outburst had been out of character, and she glanced sheepishly at her father and asked, “It is, right, Dad?” He smiled and nodded.

“That sounds great.” He held his arm out to Bumi, clasping his elbow in the gesture Katara had grown up seeing used all over her village, and that Sokka had showed Zuko before the first summer he spent with them. Her son puffed his chest out and though his own hand gripped Zuko mid-forearm, he looked so much like Hakoda when he fixed his most serious expression on his face and nodded.

Back at the house, Zuko showed everyone how to cook the crabs, and all the different ways you could enjoy them. The kids followed his instructions to make dipping sauces for the meat (including a few experiments of their own) while Katara prepared vegetables. Even though it was a simple meal, they set the table like it was a holiday, the girls creating a flower arrangement from Katara’s garden and the places carefully set with the nice dishes. It was an important moment, unplanned though it had been, and Katara wanted Bumi to feel that she was proud of him.

So that night, despite the time differences with Kyoshi Island and the South Pole, the whole family video called in to hear Bumi tell the legend of the First Hunt. Suki had given her sister in law an odd smile when she saw that Zuko was there, and Hakoda had just made a thoughtful humming sound when Bumi explained who had taken him to the tide pools. Everyone was in a celebratory mood though, and even Gran-Gran got a little emotional. Katara had to catch herself before she started crying as she taught her children the prayers to thank the spirits. Everyone’s voices rang out as they repeated the words. She looked around her full dinner table, to the faces crowded together on her laptop screen, and Katara closed her eyes and whispered an extra thanks, just from her.


End file.
